But blank faces don't always mean innocence. And I wasn't ready to let that go just yet.
"Mom, we didn't take anything," my daughter argued, pushing her hair behind her ear.
"I haven't touched your wallet," my son added, a little defensive, finally lifting his eyes to mine.
"Stealing from family isn't okay."My husband, Peter, set his fork down.
"They know you won't really discipline them," he said, leaning back in his chair. "That's the whole problem. They're testing you because you let them."
I looked at him across the table. He said it with such certainty as if he'd already decided who the guilty party was and was just waiting for the rest of us to catch up.
I believed Peter then. Lord help me, I believed every word of it.
"They're testing you because you let them."
***
The next morning, another $300 was gone. I sat on the edge of the bed, wallet open in my lap, and just blinked.
I was done second-guessing myself.
After work, I stopped at the hardware store. By nightfall, a hidden camera was fixed to the hallway wall, angled toward the hook where I always left my purse.
My wallet stayed exactly where it always did, bills neatly stacked, practically gift-wrapped for whoever was helping themselves.
I was done second-guessing myself.
